by Nirina Stone
Good. Then we’ll be able to go wherever we want, without Sorens hunting us down. Then I wonder—
“Will they harm the—baby—at all?”
“No,” he assures me. “I’ve pre-programmed them to hunt down your trackers and leave anything organic.”
That worry aside, I realize that if there’s anyone who knows what’s going on with Mother, it would be the holo, wouldn’t it? He holds Father’s memories. I wonder if he’ll tell me, though. Father wasn’t one for sharing information, not even with me. I wonder if his holoimage would be the same.
“How is Mother a double spy?” I ask him.
He doesn’t answer for a moment and I’m about to ask him again when he says, “I wonder why you ask me. Can you trust my answers?”
No, I think. I can’t trust anything or anyone, but I need to hear some answers. I need to hear what he has to say. “Does it matter to you if I trust you or not?”
“Decidedly not,” he says. Then he proceeds to destroy my entire world. “Your mother and I fell in love, you know that story.”
I do. Mother told me all about spying on Father’s Prospo family for the Sorens. Then she and Father fell in love. Hearing this holo talk about it all as if he was physically there is perplexing. I ignore the urge to ask him to tell me the story like an outsider.
“She was beautiful, your mother,” Father’s voice says. “She was funny, smarter than anyone I’d ever met, and she didn’t take any crap from anyone.” Yep, sounds like Mother. “That’s what I loved about her,” he says. “She didn’t think any Prospo was her superior. Well I mean, she was right, but she never let anyone treat her otherwise. Certainly not my father.”
I remember how Mother and Father fled for Citizen City together, and shiver.
“The thing about your mother,” he says, “is that she was always her own person. Her loyalties lay with those that let her be her own person. Anyone that would tell her to be anything else or think a different way was not her ally. She’s complicated that way.”
I don’t really understand what he means, but I know Mother can be stubborn. Does that mean she turns on anyone that tries to rein her in? If that’s the case, I expect she turns on everyone at some point. What sort of living is that? How can she simply switch loyalties so easily?
“She’s not flaky,” he says, as if to confirm he heard my thoughts. “Not at all. In fact, if anything, she’s beyond steadfast. But her beliefs are—well, pretty set.”
“Who is she spying for?” I ask him.
“I think she’s with the Prospo,” he says with a frown. “But see, that’s the part I don’t understand Romy. Because she was leading the team that had me assassinated.”
My heart stops as I stare at him, and I suddenly can’t breathe. What does he mean Mother was behind the team—? He already told me that the Sorens were the ones who had him killed, now he says Mother’s had a direct hand in it?
It doesn’t make any sense, and I nearly stop and run out the room. Instead, I ask, “Why would she have you assassinated? She loved you.” I know she loved Father. There’s no doubt in my mind of that one thing.
“She did,” he says, “but her loyalties were not with me, Romy. They were never with me. They were always with her people first. The moment she believed I wasn’t as loyal to her people as she’d like, I had to go. That’s the way your mother operates.”
It still doesn’t make sense. Her people are the Sorens. But then, apparently she shifts loyalties. So who were her people when Father was assassinated? The Prospo? My head hurts.
“I don’t understand,” I admit. “None of it makes any sense. Who is Mother loyal to? Who were her people when you were assassinated?”
“Good question,” he says, “and I’m afraid I didn’t get all the answers before my death either. I realized it was her when it happened. I still don’t know the exact reasons. If you ever find out, I’d love to hear it too.”
Ugh. How will I find that out, exactly? He smiles at me, and I nearly forget that it’s not really Father I’m speaking to. When I remember I frown back at him. I can’t take what this holo-image-memory thing says to me seriously either.
But then, who can I believe? What family was I born into that would turn on each other like this? What sort of people would turn around and have each other killed? Well we’re no better than the Prospo we destroyed back in Apex.
I need to talk to Mother, I decide. The last time I felt like I was with my people was in Haven. Wasn’t it? Mother’s loyalty, wherever that may lie, includes me. Doesn’t it? How do I get out of here and get back there? I don’t even know the way to the surface from here.
I start to formulate a plan, but Blair will need to be involved. I don’t know how I will get out of here, but I know I don’t trust this holoimage. I don’t trust anything I’ve been told. I need to get Mother in front of me. I need to talk to her. Things will make more sense when I talk to her.
When I talk to Blair later on, telling him my plans, he sits back and watches me for a minute.
“Why do you want to go to the surface?” he finally asks.
“There was something I saw when we were up there,” I say. “I want to find it, take a closer look at it.” My mind goes back to the metal things I saw, ripping through the ground as they moved past. I couldn’t identify what they were, but I definitely don’t want to see them again. “I want to know what happened with those animals,” I say.
“Well what would you like to know?” Blair asks. Would he tell me if I asked? I doubt it.
“I don’t know what it was Blair, but what’s the problem?” I say. “I thought I could leave here whenever I wanted? Well I’d like to leave. Please.”
He keeps his eyes on mine. “For someone who grew up underground, you’re sure acting like you’re claustrophobic or something.”
Or something, I think.
“Okay,” he says. “If you want to go to the surface, I’ll take you to the surface.”
Really? That easy?
“But I’ll warn you, it’s a bit of a destruction zone up there, right now,” he says. “They kept coming back, though we don’t anticipate another attack for a while.”
“Okay,” I say. I ask him if he’ll be alright heading to the surface on his glidingbot, and he nods. “I’m still not ready to walk quite yet,” he says. “I will, after training, but that will take a while, no matter how good Frankie is.”
A slight pang hits my gut, but I shut it down nearly as soon as I feel it.
Then we make our way to a veda hidden in the walls. They’re so flat, with no seams to speak of, I can never tell where one stands until doors slide open and we see the veda. Then we’re in and rising to the surface faster than I expect.
On the surface, I see that Blair wasn’t exaggerating. Where there once were trees probably several hundred years old, there’s nothing but craters and rocks where bombs fell and destroyed everything.
There’s nothing to see for miles. “Wow,” I say, “what did they use?”
“Ex-Prospo weapons,” he says, looking around, “though it doesn’t look like they went for the biggest things. Hmm.”
I walk further ahead and look behind us. We’re completely alone. I fight off another slight pang, knowing that this is likely my only chance. So, when Blair’s glidingbot floats past me and he’s slightly ahead, I don’t think.
I ram my hand into the back of Blair’s head, knowing that it will only render him unconscious for a few minutes.
“Sorry, Commander,” I say to his still form.
Then I pull him off the glidingbot and prop his still body up where I know the doors to the veda will open. Something sits heavy in my stomach, like I’m doing something reprehensible. But I won’t get any answers here and he’s not too hurt. He’ll just be unconscious for a few minutes. And I shouldn’t have followed him here to the Metrills.
I open the back of his glidingbot and sift through the wires and cables. It’s a standard issue bot. It doesn’t take
me long to incapacitate the speed muffler. Then, I sit on the machine and throttle forward.
At the rate it goes, I’ll get back to Haven in three days, maybe less. I hope to find lots of berries and animals on the way there, or I’ll suffer out here. Half an hour ago, I’d thought about smuggling food out, but that would have made him suspicious.
I don’t look back to Blair, knowing that the guilt will make me want to go back to him, then go back down to the people. Back to my jailers.
But I can’t. I don’t know who’s loyal to whom anymore. I just know I need answers. I need to know what really happened with Father, and I need to hear it all from her mouth.
13
Heading Forward or Back
The journey takes shorter than I expected, though eating squirrel and possum meat, fruits and the occasional gecko gets old fast.
I only take a break every now and then to let the glidingbot recharge in the sun while I perform my Metrill dance to calm my nerves and refocus.
It’s only during those calm moments that I allow myself to remember there’s a baby in my belly. I rub my swollen stomach gently, realizing that I’ve been so distracted by everything else, I might have passed the point where I can’t decide anything but keep this pregnancy.
By my calculations, it’s now four months. Doy. But there are so many other things I’m worried about right now.
I jump back on the glider and make my way East towards where I know Haven stands. Where Mother waits.
Now and then, I still when I hear a noise, but it’s not the Metrills. It’s not Blair. I hope he’s okay, then fight the pang. I barely sleep, worried I might be an easy target for wolves or big cats. My luck—and maybe the high-pitched frequency from the glidingbot—I don’t meet anything more dangerous than the occasional snake.
Even then, I’ve read that most of the snakes on this part of the world are not venomous, unlike the ones in Apex. They taste okay, though, roasted to an extra crispy charcoal, with nuts and berries on the side. I also come across a few freshwater springs.
This sort of journey would have had me die within a matter of days in Apex. Here, in the north, the land is made to host long travels much better than I could imagine.
By the time I roll up to the outer edges of Haven, I’m dirty, having left the last body of water the day before. I push myself out of the chair and stand, determined to walk the rest of the way, and into Mother’s waiting arms. I’m sure she’s worried about me. I’m sure they’ve been looking for me for a while, planning something else to try to find me.
It may be the thirst making my brain foggy, but I’m certain she will believe me about the fires.
Well I’m here Mother. No need for saving. I saved my own dang self. I ignore the thought that it was a bit easy, that maybe they let me go on purpose, that Blair would have been more suspicious than that.
I smile and start to make my way to the direction of her offices. Or at least, where I know they ought to be. I finally stop when I see the wisps of smoke, and not much more. Then, I’m running through where the town should be, the school, the new builds, Mason Street where my house with mother stands—should stand.
Where there were once rows and rows of newly built homes, there’s nothing much but dirt and ground. No rubble. Just dirt. As if there were no buildings at all. As though we were never there.
Smoke curls and rises from some sections of the ground, the only indication that there was anything there at all. What in Odin happened here?
I run faster towards Mother’s building but it’s much the same as everywhere else. What happened to them? Sure, there weren’t that many people around, many of them were still on the Iliad.
Finally, I slow down, gasping. I make my way to the shore where I know the Iliad and Elysium are docked—were docked. Because where they once claimed their spots is empty. The water laps against the shore like that’s all it’s ever done in centuries, like it didn’t have a single ship sitting there for months on end.
Not a slick of anything, nothing out of place. Not even the massive dock we’d built around the ships to make entry and exit easier. Nothing. If not for the obvious displaced dirt around me, I’d wonder if it was all a dream.
What—? I sit on the ground, hard, my eyes peeling the horizon for any signs of the Iliad. I fight impending tears. The water laps the edge of my shoes, the sound soothing, unnatural. My people are gone, the community I helped build. I’m lost at the edge of the world, with nowhere to go.
Then Father’s voice is in my head, without any static. “Come back,” it says. “No harm done. Come back.”
I know it’s not Father’s voice, of course. It has to be the holopersona. Why didn’t he talk to me sooner, while I was still travelling? Why did he wait for me to see all this—nothing—before contacting me?
Probably because he knew I’d simply ignore him and keep going. Probably because he knew I wouldn’t listen.
I pull my feet up under me and wrap my arms around my knees. I rest my chin on my arms and try to fight off tears, to no avail. My people are gone, and Haven. Our life here has ended before it even started.
Best-case scenario, they’ve left Haven. Worst-case scenario—I can’t think about it. I’m alone on this quiet beach, with nowhere to go but back to the Metrills.
Travelling back is as drama-free as the travel forward. Even easier—there are more animals available to kill for food, and they don’t make the hunt difficult either. Half the time, they sit and wait for me to catch them. It makes me wonder—it doesn’t seem natural.
The glidingbot finally stops at the entry-way to the Metrills’ home and I look around, knowing that I’ve been away for about one week. Sitting around in the dirt in Haven listening to Father’s voice urging me to travel back got old fast.
I stand up and a door opens up ahead. Resigned, I walk in and travel down, down, down to the depths of the Metrills’ world, telling myself at least I’m not actually their prisoner. At least they let me leave whenever I wish. At least they’re friendly, though they still don’t speak to me. At least there’s Blair.
When I reach the bottom, I’ve nearly convinced myself that this isn’t so bad.
When the door opens up on the main level, I expect to see Blair waiting for me with his thick eyebrows furrowed. I did hit his head pretty hard—I had to. I’m sure something like that can’t go unpunished. I brace myself for more broken limbs.
Instead of greeting an angry Blair, it’s an empty hallway. I make my way to my quarters without so much as a hint of another person around. For a moment, I wonder if this is a dream or I’m unconscious in a ditch somewhere. I have had no human contact in days.
By the time I’m under the hot shower in my quarters though, I know it’s not a dream. The streaming hot water pounds and pulses against my sore muscles—I didn’t really notice they were tense or sore until now, but the heat pushes it all away. I could sit under this water for hours, for days but I have far too many questions to ask and far too much confusion to deal with. More than anything, I haven’t slept well in days, always worried I’d get eaten even though, again, the bigger animals left me alone.
So I get changed, determined to find Father’s holopersona the moment I wake up. I climb into my cot, my eyes already drooped to slits. I’m asleep before I can change my mind.
The next day, he stands still as a statue, quietly waiting for my questions. But where do I begin? I start with, “How are you able to talk to me? In my brain, I mean.” Was it really his voice I’d heard those many months ago? When I thought I was losing my mind?
“It’s an old way we had to communicate,” he says. “It’s part of the job of your nanobots but was shut down ages ago. We’re still trying to fix it. The Metrills have a more sophisticated version, but it’s not compatible with your bots.” That explains why I never hear them speak.
“Why was it shut down?”
“There were—problems. The technology was causing embolisms. We’re still not sure why. So it�
��s better to keep it shut down. Mostly.”
“You risked contacting me though,” I say. My hand touches the side of my head, then I bring it back down.
“The little bit I’ve done is harmless,” he says, “harmless enough.”
What else can our nanobots do, I wonder? I know they heal us, they keep us from getting sick, they have us stronger than we would normally be without them. They keep us alive longer than our natural states. Now I learn that we can communicate through them as well, if only intermittently.
What else is there?
“What else do they do? Our nanobots?”
“They’re not limitless if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says. “But they document everything you do and think as well. That’s why we can access people’s memories as well as we do. Though it’s still not perfect.”
Looking at his holoform, already knowing the answer, I say, “Can they bring people back to life?”
He shakes his head before I finish the sentence. “They can try to save us. They can help delay death to an extent, but if your heart stops for over three minutes or if your spine breaks, well that’s it.”
Okay. Good to know. I suppose.
Before I get to my next question, Blair glides in on a new bot. Identical to the one I stole from him. I fight the guilt as I catch his eyes.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” he says. I roll my eyes at him, stopping only when I realize I should apologize. I stay mute. “Well?” he says. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“There was nothing left,” I say. “What did you do to them?”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “What makes you think I did anything to them?”
Ignoring the fact that he didn’t answer my question, I say, “Because you’re here Blair. Not dead, or wherever the Sorens are right now.”
He pauses. “What did you see over there?” As if he doesn’t know.
